


Drift

by StuffYouWatedToSayButNeverDid



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dark, Depression, Drug Use, M/M, One Shot, POV Sherlock Holmes, Suicidal Thoughts, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 13:35:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21037064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StuffYouWatedToSayButNeverDid/pseuds/StuffYouWatedToSayButNeverDid
Summary: Each day I venture out into society I wear a mask. It says “I’m fine.”In truth, I am anything but.





	Drift

**Author's Note:**

> Read the tags. Trigger warnings for depression, suicide, and drug use.

Each day I venture out into society I wear a mask. It says “I’m fine.”  
In truth, I am anything but.

I have had my share of trouble in life as we all do but nothing that should constitute this. 

This feeling of being alone in a room full of people. The weight of the world pushing and pulling until I break. The hopelessness. 

It grew to the point where I could no longer distract myself without stimulant and like many, I turned to alcohol. That was a brief time as I found it only brought me down more with only a small window of bliss. I needed something stronger.

Like so many others before me, that is when I turned to drugs. Simple at first. Marijuana.  
As it started, a quarter of a joint was fine, until tolerance was built and that wasn’t enough. Soon it became half, three-quarters, one…two…three. While it served its purpose and still does occasionally, I wanted more. 

The fear came next. Trying anything more could have serious risks and even become fatal but that sounded…appealing. The risk of death. What would it be like to die, I often wonder. 

These thoughts began to expand, form, plan. Not for my own suicide but I contemplate. What would it be like to die? To not fear, not worry, not hurt. 

I stand on the underground platform, watching as the train barrels by and consider. It could be over so quickly. 

I stare at a bottle of pills, browse the pharmacies and rationalise, which of these bottles would work seamlessly.

I pause in my work, my gaze wondering over to knives in my kitchen and recall that I know very well, how easy it would be. 

These ideas become elaborate sometimes and they tend to push my mind to a breaking point and I realise a potential future that I could lose. Yet…if my plans do not go as I wish, would I regret making the choice to live? If I fail-if I am going to fail ultimately-I don’t want to see it. I would rather end the suffering now.

What would my parents think? How would it affect them? Would my brother care?

And what about John? 

Surely he would be better off without me. He deserves better, that much is obvious. Disappearing, letting him start over, that would be the kind thing to do. I’m a monster. I’m a void. He would drown eventually, as would I.  
I destroy everything.

My mind goes numb as the pain consumes me and there is nothing left but to have a semblance of relief, if only for a moment. 

I lock the door to my bedroom, a dim lamp is my only lighting but the needle still glistens in her glow.

Fear. 

Adrenalin.

But it all subsides as the cocaine floods my veins and suddenly everything is silent.

I drift.


End file.
